Consequence and Curiosity
by ladypredator
Summary: Starts as an Epilogue to Ep4 "The Price of Gold" and wanders onward from there; mostly some responses to series events, missing scenes, as it were.   Basically, Emma must realize that there are consequences to every choice you make and nothing is ever as simple as it might seem.
1. Chapter 1

Watching Ashley with her infant daughter was bittersweet for Emma. She still felt that she had made the right decision ten years ago, yet she couldn't deny her growing fondness for the son she'd given up. She'd missed so much of his childhood and Regina… that woman disturbed her on many levels.

Regardless, she smiled as she turned from the doorway of Ashley's hospital room and held her head high as she walked down the hall. She'd done something good, something right.

"Ah, Miss Swan, I thought I might find you here." Mr. Gold's honeyed voice startled her and she turned to face him, tilting her head to the side curiously.

"Mr. Gold, what are _you_ doing here?" she inquired, her pulse rising. He wasn't going to suddenly change his mind again, was he? She tightened her stance, prepared to fight to protect Ashley.

"I almost forgot to pay you for your services yesterday," he replied calmly, holding something out to her.

"What?" she exclaimed, automatically taking the piece of paper from him. Her blue eyes widened as she read the amount on the check.

"You did the job I hired you to do, regardless of the outcome," he said, a half-smile carving dimples at the right side of his mouth. "As I told you yesterday, my agreements are always met. I keep my promises."

"This – it's too much," she protested.

He shrugged. "It's an average hourly rate for a private investigator with some extra for expenses. I believe you did some driving. The cost of gasoline is quite exorbitant these days."

"Uhh," she stammered. "I'm still not sure I can accept this."

"You did the job," he insisted with what she was beginning to recognize as characteristically soft-spoken firmness. "You earned your pay. Our other agreement, the favor you owe me, is a separate issue."

The money would definitely be useful; Emma had to admit that at least to herself. She could pay Mary Margaret some rent and help with groceries now instead of waiting for her first paycheck as Storybrooke's newest deputy Sheriff.

"Thank you," she began, but was interrupted by a high woman's voice behind her.

"Where's my baby!"

Emma spun around even as Mr. Gold stepped past her, his cane tapping on the tiled ward floor.

"Lucy," he placated, "I explained to you yesterday…"

His voice broke off as he was shoved back against Emma, who barely managed to keep them both on their feet.

"You promised me! You promised us a baby! I've been waiting months," sobbed a thin, elegantly-dressed blond woman, tears streaking her make-up. Her hands tugged strands loose from a previously tight chignon.

A taller, heavier man in a suit wrapped his arms around the distraught woman from behind, hugging her against his chest. His pale eyes were bitter and angry as he glared directly at Mr. Gold.

"I'm so sorry," Mr. Gold said. "As I told you yesterday, the birth mother has decided to keep her baby." He spread his arms wide. "But I will find a child for you to adopt, you have my word…"

"Your word?" the man shouted. "We have a legal contract! The girl already agreed to the adoption; she signed the papers. She took our money. We paid for everything, her medical care, her rent… what is this? Some kind of adoption scam? I'll sue you and her and…" he was cut off as his wife's crying increased in volume.

"Lucy, Lucy, shhh, I'll take care of it, I promise, please stop crying," he begged.

Emma had to go to the woman. She tried to touch her shoulder. The older blonde looked desperately at her through reddened eyes.

"We tried so hard, but I was sick. It wasn't my fault. The drugs made me ill and the in vitro failed and I miscarried twice. All I wanted was a baby. But the doctors said I'd never be able to carry a child." Her voice rose into hysterics and she nearly screamed. "All I want is a baby."

Her accusing eyes reamed Emma and Mr. Gold. "You promised!"

"I _will_ find a baby for you," Mr. Gold answered, his jaw set, angular features tightening with resolution. "It can't be this one, but I've already called every adoption agency and attorney I know from here to Miami."

"I want this one!" Lucy cried. "The nursery is all prepared. We've waited so long." Her face crumpled again and her husband embraced her, protective anger radiating from him.

"You damn well will find us a baby and I still should press charges against this… this…"

"Please don't blame Ashley," Emma pleaded, her own emotions tipping into a mixture of sadness and an unforgiving touch of guilt. "She just wants her baby. You can understand that, can't you?"

"She didn't want her baby when we were handing her money," the man said bitterly.

"She'll repay every cent. It may take her a while to get on her feet, but she will. Please, she's young and she made a mistake. Don't punish her for that," Emma replied, starting to reach out to the sobbing woman again, then letting her hands fall helplessly to her side, the forgotten check crumpled in her fist.

"She'd better," he said with a remnant of anger, even as he tried to comfort his wife.

"She will," Emma promised. "And I will help find another child for you. I _know_ there are a lot of children out there who desperately need a loving home."

Something in her voice must have communicated itself, because Lucy left her husband's embrace, sniffling as she fixed her watery eyes on Emma. "Do you _promise_?" she demanded.

"I promise." Emma and Mr. Gold spoke the same words simultaneously, their voices mingling.

Startled, she glanced at him. He returned her look sideways through a silky curtain of brown hair; dark eyes filled with that same intensity she'd seen the day before. She found herself nodding at him, before taking Lucy's trembling hand and squeezing it.

#####

The bereft couple required some more comforting before they finally left. When it was over, Emma breathed in deeply, shoving her long hair out of her eyes.

"I didn't realize, I didn't expect…" she said to herself, not realizing the man beside her could hear her muttered thoughts.

He chuckled wryly and again she had to lean sideways to meet his eyes. This time they were wide and a softer, chocolate brown. Lines creased in their corners and those dimples curled into his right cheek.

"What did you think I was going to do with Ashley's baby? Put her in the window of my shop with a price tag on her toe?"

A combination of irony, amusement, and just a hint of reproach colored his tone.

Emma found herself blushing, damn her fair coloring, and grimaced.

"No, no, of course not, I just…" she sighed, unable to avoid the inevitable sense of guilt. She hadn't wanted to hurt anyone, but she'd been so concentrated on helping Ashley that she hadn't considered any possible consequences. As much as she hated apologizing, she braced herself and did it.

"I'm sorry. I was worried about Ashley and frankly the idea of treating a baby like merchandise offended me. I didn't think about… whether there were adoptive parents and how they might feel."

Again, he surprised her by simply nodding solemnly and apologizing in return.

"I owe you an apology as well, if you felt that I was uncaring about the baby. It was a difficult situation for everyone involved and I was simply trying to meet my obligations. I believe in keeping my word and I expect the same from the people I deal with. Unfortunately, that can seem, well," he shook his head, long strands of hair caressing his sharp cheekbones and the corners of his mouth, "rather uncompromising."

His gaze strengthened; again she could see that – yes – uncompromising – sense of will in him.

"Yes, it can," she said, lifting her chin and meeting him straight on.

He shrugged. Another hint of ironic amusement curled the corners of his lips.

"It is the way I am."

"There are worse things," she had to admit. She'd chased down and captured quite a few of them. So she let herself offer a small peacemaking smile of her own.

Oh, she wasn't stupid. This man was far more than a small-town pawnbroker and one-time adoption broker. He was too self-assured and strong-willed, far too intelligent. And he knew she knew it. A challenging sparkle illuminated his coffee-colored eyes even as they exchanged smiles.

"Emma!" a young voice called out and Henry skidded to a halt at her side. The boy stared up with an odd combination of curiosity and suspicion at Mr. Gold.

"Hello Henry," that man said nonchalantly. "I do hope your mother knows where you are. She can get quite distraught at times."

"Are you going to tell her?" Henry challenged, glaring as only a ten-year-old could.

Mr. Gold merely chuckled.

"I think I'd be wise to avoid that particular situation for now. I've got some important work to do." He stretched out his hand to Emma. When she went to shake it, he took hold of her fingers in a firm, but supple grip and bent to kiss them, a whisper more of breath than of skin. She stared at him in shock before pulling her hand away.

He bowed his head slightly. "Until we meet again, Miss Swan."

She and Henry stood in silence for a moment as he strode away.

"Who _is_ he?" Henry demanded of her.

"What?" Emma asked. It took her a moment to connect to his meaning, then she grinned.

"Don't you know?" she inquired. "You've seemed pretty sure of everyone else."

Henry shook his head, dropping his backpack on the floor.

"I can't figure him out. At first I thought he was a leprechaun, but there isn't one in the Book."

She laughed. "Not to mention the fact that he's Scottish not Irish. I've never heard of a Scottish leprechaun." She pulled her hair back for a moment and then rubbed at the back of her neck.

"Anyway, maybe he's not in your book at all. Surely even Storybrooke gets ordinary people visiting and moving in," she proposed, trying to offer some rationality without upsetting Henry. It was so hard on her not to challenge his weird fantasies, but she was so afraid of what might happen to him if she did so. What had Regina done to make him live in such a strange world? He was such a bright, sweet boy otherwise.

"No!" Henry was adamant. "He's been here all along and he's too important in this town. He and the Queen have known each other like forever." Henry bit at his lower lip. "In fact, he's the only one I've seen her actually scared of, well not scared, but nervous. She likes being in control all the time but she can't control him."

"Maybe a king or a powerful wizard," she answered indulgently, playing along. But it was with honesty that she continued more seriously. "He's certainly charismatic."

In fact, maybe Henry's question wasn't so fantastical after all. Just what was behind that charming façade?


	2. Chapter 2

It had become habit for Emma to sit at the sunny window table in the Storybrooke café each morning, enjoying a cup of coffee and maybe a pastry. She liked watching people go by and wondering which fairy tale character Henry would say they were. As a child's game, it was amusing. As her son's escape from reality, it came with significant worry. She had to reach him somehow; to find a way to make him accept the real world as it is.

Still, on such a lovely morning, bright and breezy, it was a fun mental game to play. Was that fussy little man with the scowl and the briefcase one of the seven dwarves? Who was Ruby, the waitress with the long dark hair and rebellious attitude? Not Cinderella or Snow White – another princess perhaps?

She sipped her coffee, relaxing, and then looked up as she felt a presence above her.

"Good morning, Miss Swan." Mr. Gold greeted her. "May I join you?"

Pleased that he'd asked politely instead of forcing the interruption as Regina had done a few days earlier, Emma smiled and nodded, waving her hand at the empty chair opposite her.

He eased himself into the chair, again surprising her with the grace of his movements despite the obviously injured leg and cane. As always, he was finely-dressed, full suit and tie, neat and elegant.

It only took a glance from him to have Ruby hurrying over to serve him coffee. He thanked her gently, ignoring the glare Ruby gave him. Emma couldn't help wondering what that look meant; she couldn't quite put her finger on the emotion behind it. Anger? Fear? Even jealousy? Strange…

But he was claiming Emma's attention with the quiet confidence of a man who is accustomed to being the center of attention without having to struggle for it.

"Thank you for the contact in Tallahassee," he told her. "Lucy and Don are flying down there tomorrow to see the baby."

"I'm glad," she replied, smiling. "I hope it works out for them." She paused for a moment, thoughts turning inward. That had been a difficult situation; she'd felt so many mixed emotions. Fiercely protective of Ashley and little Alexandra, yet guilty and sympathetic towards Lucy and her desperate desire to have the child she'd been denied.

She mentally shook off that swirl of sentiment and settled for a practical comment. "It's always good to see a child go to a people who will love and care for her." Her cynicism came to the forefront as she added, "And they seem to have plenty of money."

Mr. Gold simply smiled, ignoring the unspoken jibe at his willingness to take 'broker's fees' for the adoption. "They own a shoe factory," he explained. "In fact, they're one of the bigger employers in this region of Maine. Unfortunately, some things are difficult even for money to buy."

"It does help, though," she commented wryly.

He merely lifted his cup at her in acknowledgement before taking another sip.

They fell into a companionable silence. Emma glanced back at the street while he seemed comfortable just to sit and relax. The sunshine streaked soft highlights in his long, brown hair and glittered on his ring and watch as he moved. It didn't fit with Henry's notions, not the right type of myth, but she'd mentally dubbed him 'Merlin'. He held power, of that she was sure.

Curious again, she refocused on him, blue eyes narrowing.

"How did you come to live in Storybrooke?" she asked.

He lifted an eyebrow at her, though his mouth quirked into one of his characteristic half-smiles. Those dimples were deadly, she decided.

Leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table, he answered, "I was looking for a place to settle down and the local pawnbroker was seeking to sell his place and retire. I bought his shop, added a bit of my own business interests to it, and here I am."

She met his gaze full on. "I would suspect there's more to your story than that," she said, a combination of amusement and challenge in her voice.

He chuckled softly, looking down at his coffee cup for a moment, wings of hair swinging down to briefly hide his face before he lifted his head and ran a hand through his hair to tuck it out of his eyes.

"Nothing too unusual," he replied in almost a sing-song tone. "I was born in Glasgow, Scotland to a very poor family. We lived near the docks, so I ran away to join the merchant marines and 'make my fortune' as soon as I was old enough. I traveled the world, learned a lot about the business of buying and selling, but was hurt in an unfortunate accident off the Maine coast." His fingers grazed the top of his cane as it rested against the table top. "Once I got out of the hospital, I decided it was time to stay in one place. I happened to end up here."

His story made sense, but a twist in her gut signaled her that something was wrong. He seemed to believe every word he'd said, but it sounded rote. Memorized. And his expression was far more dreamy, distant, than she'd ever seen it before. He was always so present, so intently focused and aware.

She couldn't stop a small shiver from crawling down her spine as she ever-so-briefly entertained the possibility that maybe, just maybe, Henry was right. But her common sense and well-established cynicism snapped right back into place. Mr. Gold was simply remembering his past, perhaps with a bit of nostalgia. Nothing out of the ordinary about that, nothing at all, she told herself firmly.

"Merchant marines? Sounds a bit like 'running away with the circus' to me," she teased.

He rewarded her with a full smile that crinkled the lines around his eyes and bared crooked teeth.

"I suppose that to a Glaswegian dock rat, that's pretty much what it was."

"You must have made a lot of interesting connections," she pushed.

"Indeed," he responded. "And discovered that I have a knack for making profitable arrangements."

"So that's what you do here?" she followed, her nose almost quivering as she sought more information about the refined enigma facing her.

He shrugged his shoulders. "Yes, exactly. I buy and sell precious objects. Antiques, old books, collectors' items, whatever people desire enough to pay for."

"Including babies," she said pointedly.

He stretched out his hands, palms up. "There's nothing more precious, but… it is not something I make a habit of doing. In fact, I can only think of two instances in all my years in Storybrooke including this one. And after the complications, well, I don't think it will be something I'll be eager to do again."

"I think that's a smart decision," she told him.

"Is that a warning, Deputy?" he commented with sly amusement in his voice.

Shocked, she leaned back in her chair. "How did you know that?"

"It is a small town, Miss Swan," he reminded her.

"Yeah, I noticed," she said ruefully. "Everyone knows everyone else's business."

They shared a smile at that commonality.

"My name is Emma, by the way," she said after another quiet moment.

"And a lovely one it is," he complimented her.

"Thank you," she said, looking pointedly at him. "And yours is…?"

"An unfortunate and very traditional Scottish name that does not bear repeating. Simply call me Gold," he finally answered.

"Is 'Gold' really your name at all?" she asked, with the sudden instinctive knowledge that it really wasn't.

"It is now," he told her. She raised an eyebrow at him, patiently silent, even though she had the sense he could easily outwait her if he wished to do so. Apparently he didn't.

"It was a nickname I was given during my shipboard years, due to my talent for earning money," he admitted. "It stuck and when I settled here, I adopted it."

"I suppose it does suit you," she said. "That doesn't mean I'm not going to try to figure out your real name."

He laughed. "Go right ahead, I'll give you three chances. That's traditional isn't it?"

She laughed too, until trained instinct stirred an uncomfortable sensation between her shoulder-blades. Emma turned to look out the window and found Regina staring at her – at them – with obvious rage.

The two women's eyes met for an instant of shared distrust, before Regina sniffed, lifted her nose in the air as though smelling something bad, and stalked away.

What was the woman's problem now, Emma wondered.


	3. Chapter 3

**_Interlude One: Mr. Gold_**

He knew Regina would find him. Lovely Emma hadn't been the only one to notice the furious woman standing outside the café glaring at them, though he hadn't let Emma realize that. It was another of his personal policies to never let _anyone_ know everything that he knew. Knowledge was another highly profitable commodity and one of his specialties.

So he pretended that he hadn't deliberately slowed his steps between the café and his shop to allow Regina to catch him. He let himself lean more heavily on his solid wooden cane than he really needed; the impression of frailty could be useful at times. Especially with Regina who lived for power and control and never could understand when it was necessary to appear to give way, to trade momentary success for long-term gain.

"What were you doing with _her_?" Regina nearly spat at him.

He frowned with distaste. For an otherwise extremely intelligent woman, Regina had a regrettable inability to control her temper.

"Having a cup of coffee on a pleasant morning," he replied blandly, even as he inwardly laughed at the frustration marring her beautiful face.

"With _that_ woman? Why would you bother? What are you up to, Gold?" she hissed.

"What does it matter to you?" He shrugged. "I would have thought you'd appreciate her attention being drawn elsewhere, especially since she's decided to stay in Storybrooke."

Her black eyes narrowed. Her red lips pursed tightly. Given the amount of money she obviously spent on her appearance, he had to hold back an acidic comment about the wrinkles she was forming in her otherwise perfect skin. However, that was an amusement which wasn't worth this moment. No, he had other thoughts to put in her mind and he didn't need her distracted.

"Stay?" Regina exclaimed, fluttering a small, expertly manicured hand against his chest. The color of her nails exactly matched her lipstick, purse and shoes. Always elegantly coiffed was the Mayor, not even one strand of smooth black hair dared to fall out of place.

Now he smiled, genuinely. Now it was time to let one little piece of knowledge fall to the right ears.

"She's accepted a position as a Deputy Sheriff," he said softly. Only fools needed to raise their voices to make their point. It was so much more effective to speak quietly and thus require them to listen carefully – oh so attentively - to every word he said.

"But surely Graham told you that already," he continued. He almost had to bite his own lip to keep from laughing aloud when rage suffused her pale cheeks with bright red coloration. Now they almost matched her accessories.

She covered quickly, though he knew from the tremor in her hands and the darkness in her eyes that poor Graham would not get off lightly. Keeping her off balance was truly rewarding as well as necessary.

"She won't be there for long," Regina announced viciously.

He sighed aloud and shook his head, gazing at her with wide eyes, as though surprised by her response.

"Regina, really, I thought you were smarter than that," he reprimanded.

"What do you mean?" she questioned. Her lips parted and her eyes focused on his like an expectant tiger ready to pounce. She was beautiful he had to admit, even despite her controlling, manipulative nature. And he certainly could match her on those qualities when he chose to, so that was even attractive at times, but no. While she could be a very useful pawn and even a valuable partner on occasion, he had absolutely no intention of falling under her spell. It was too important to keep the control in their relationship. So, sadly, he would not be taking advantage of that elegant femininity, tempting though it might be.

Besides, now there was Emma - bright, bold, and such a wonderful combination of cynicism and innocence.

That thought made him smile, just a wee bit, as he took his time to answer Regina's demand. She didn't like that, which was just fine.

"Again, my dear, you fail to think things through properly," he chided. "Ask yourself this – what is it about Emma that so fascinates young Henry?"

"How the hell am I supposed to know that?" Regina glared at him. "I certainly don't see it. There's nothing she can offer him. I've given him everything a child could want!"

"You also make all the rules and restrictions," Mr. Gold replied with exaggerated patience. "You force him to do his homework, clean his room, brush his teeth, and _etcetera_." He waved his free hand in the small space between them, almost brushing the back of his hand against her cheek. "But Emma – she's a fantasy to him. She's the mysterious birth mother who is going to sweep in and carry him away on a mystical adventure. He's a very imaginative lad and since she's come here, she's been able to spend all of her time with him, indulging him."

Finally he saw understanding dawn on Regina's face. Her ruby lips curved into a sly smile.

"If she has to work to earn a living, then she won't have so much time to spend with him," she said, her mind immediately – and deviously - at work.

He rewarded her with another full smile and clapped his cane against the sidewalk to punctuate her illumination.

"Particularly if she has to work long hours, evenings, weekends," he encouraged. "Law enforcement officers don't work '9-to-5'; they have greater obligations to the community."

"Of course they do," Regina pronounced. "And as the newest member of the department, she'll be required to pay her dues and spare the more experienced officers for more advanced tasks. Storybrooke expects true dedication from its police officers."

"Indeed it does," he replied. "Now, if you will excuse me, I have work of my own to see to."

To his great pleasure, Regina was happy to scurry off. The Sheriff was going to get very clear instructions from the Mayor regarding his new deputy and given their relationship (one that he doubted anyone other than he even suspected), those instructions would be followed to the letter.

Perhaps it would even occur to Regina that encouraging Emma to build a relationship with himself would seem to be in her favor. After all, it was time spent away from Henry. He might have to subtly encourage her again, but maybe Regina would think of it herself. The more Regina infuriated Emma and drove her in his direction, the better.

Mr. Gold smiled all the way to his shop and wasn't bothered in the slightest by the boarded up area on his otherwise spotless front door.

He had plans for Emma. The fact that she truly intrigued him personally was only icing on the cake.


	4. Chapter 4

Emma smoothed a few loose wisps of hair back, tucking them behind her ears, and sighed.

"No, Henry, you can _not _ride around with me in the squad car. I'm working."

The boy stared at her stubbornly with an expression that seemed all too familiar and she sighed. "And I had better not find you popping up in the back seat again. It was one thing when I was driving my own car on my own time. Now that I'm a Deputy Sheriff, it's different. It could be dangerous."

"Nothing ever happens in Storybrooke," Henry complained. "And I'll be with you and you'll keep me safe."

"I can't be certain of that and anyway it's not even on the list of possibilities."

He opened his mouth to argue and she shook her head, causing more hair to fall loose from the precarious knot she'd tied her long, golden hair into during the hectic, if dull afternoon filing cases in the Sheriff's office.

"Non-negotiable," she told him.

He gave a heaving sigh and peered up at her pathetically beneath his fringe of dark hair. That wasn't going to work either, really it wasn't. Damn the kid. This time he wasn't wrapping her around his little finger.

"Look, I'm off work tomorrow and we can do something then, OK? See if we can figure out who some more of these people really are," she offered, mentally wincing. She hated playing into his fantasy world, but she just couldn't let him try sneaking into the police car like he had her little yellow Bug. Hopefully, this would distract him.

He eyed her with a mixture of frustration and hope.

"Really?" he asked. She had to take a deep breath to keep her heart from breaking at the pleading expression in his eyes.

"Really," she promised.

"OK," he pronounced. "I want to figure out who Mr. Gold is for starters. I'll read my notes again tonight. He's important, I know he is."

Her mind instantly circled back to the elegant businessman. She hadn't quite been able to get the man off her mind since the morning's conversation over coffee. He was too compelling, too enigmatic, despite the short life history he'd given her. She wasn't certain she believed a word of it. But that he was important – yes, that she absolutely believed. The man wore power like a cloak.

"Merlin," Emma mused, not realizing she said it aloud.

"Like King Arthur's Merlin?" Henry interrupted her thoughts.

She looked at him in surprise and then shrugged. "It certainly suits him."

"Nah, can't be," Henry stated. "Camelot's not related to the Enchanted Forest at all. It's not in the book."

She laughed softly, trying to keep her voice soft and non-judgmental. "I doubt everyone in this town is part of those fairy-tales. There have to be some regular people here. Maybe Mr. Gold is one of those."

"I already _told_ you why and _you _just said he makes you think of Merlin and Merlin's not a regular person. He's magical. So's Mr. Gold; just in a different way." Henry insisted.

As crazy as the whole conversation was, she couldn't escape a sudden stab of pride. He was a very smart kid and his logic – if you accepted the fantastical premise, of course – was impeccable.

"I didn't mean he really is Merlin," she said, smiling softly at him and barely resisting the impulse to ruffle his hair. "It might be a good code name for him, though, don't you think?"

Henry pursed his mouth, deep in thought. "Yeah, I guess. But I want to know who he _really_ is."

Pieces of conversation rang back through her mind from the morning and she almost told Henry about the 'three-guesses' mutual joke regarding Gold's childhood name. However, the sun was setting, she had to get on patrol, and she didn't want Henry going off on a tangent. Besides, there was something _personal _about that conversation: something private that she didn't want to share even with her new-found son. So she settled for another honest truth.

"So do I, Henry" she answered. "Oh, so do I."


	5. Chapter 5

_This chapter is set immediately after the end of episode 1x08, "Desperate Souls" - just an instant, in fact. So spoilers up through that episode._

_XxXxXxXxXx _

"Wait just a minute here!" Emma yelled after Mr. Gold. "We're not finished with this yet!"

He paused in midstride, almost stumbled, but caught himself instantly and somehow made the stop-and-turn actually look graceful.

"Of course we're not," he replied smoothly. "As I just told you, we still have to figure out how to resolve your debt to me."

How the hell had he taken back control of the conversation so quickly? Flustered, she – _temporarily_ – abandoned his political dirty dealing and answered on the topic he'd raised.

"I won't do, or condone, anything illegal!" she insisted, setting her chin firmly.

He smiled warmly at her. "Of course not. I wouldn't expect anything else."

Again, he'd taken the steam right out from under her. She gaped at him, then forced herself to close her mouth and subject him to her best glare.

No luck from that either. He simply shrugged his elegant shoulders.

"Emma, my dear, none of this would've worked at all if I hadn't been completely certain that you would choose to do the right thing," he chided her softly.

"You – you counted on me to do the right thing?" she echoed, astonished. "That is one of the most… twisted… compliments I've ever heard!"

He chuckled, those wicked dimples piercing his cheeks even as his deep, molten brown eyes remained fixed on her face. Damn, if the dimples were deadly, those eyes were sinful beyond measure. They were also bitingly intelligent and focused. She could certainly understand why people might be scared of him. That brilliant, yet soft-spoken, intensity was hard to bear; it was as though he saw straight through her.

"You're welcome, I suppose," he said with a brief, courtly bow and a sarcastic lilt to the corner of his mouth.

She shook her head; tried to refocus.

"How did you know I'd figure out that you'd set the fire? You couldn't plan on that. Or really be sure that I'd be willing to denounce you, since there wasn't enough real evidence. Otherwise, you'd be sitting in that cell right now."

He sighed and ran a hand through his silky silver-streaked dark hair.

"Really, I would expect better from you. Of course – supposing that I did anything, which I'm not saying that I did – I wouldn't leave any _real_ evidence behind. Anything that you might have found that would lead you to suspect me would, naturally, have been put there to purposefully bring such suspicion to mind."

"Naturally," she repeated bitterly. Damn him, she'd been led around like a horse on a tether. He'd made sure she'd seen - and smelled - him working with the lanolin just to ensure she'd recognize it later on the so conveniently placed rope at the site of the fire. Talk about planning in advance. Her mind quickly enraveled the scheme. "So I find the planted evidence, evidence that only I would connect to you, then you admit to it privately. We argue, making me angry enough to 'stand up' to you in front of the entire town. I do, and because you think everyone's afraid of you, they vote for me, and I win the election."

"QED," he said. Strands of hair slipped down to frame those rich, chocolate eyes as he nodded. "All you had to do was what any good person would do, which, of course, I already knew you would, and you became sheriff, which was the point of the whole exercise from the beginning."

His smile was both challenging and engaging at once. "You won the election because you're a good person who does the right thing, what could be better than that?"

She opened her mouth to argue, found herself without words, and again had to close her mouth before she looked too much like a beached fish.

"You're a manipulative bastard, you know that?" she finally said; it wasn't really a question.

"I've been called worse," he replied sanguinely. "In fact, I believe that Regina said something very similar a couple of days ago."

Her blue eyes flashed as a sudden, unpleasant idea struck her. He'd called Regina their 'common enemy.'

"Is this simply some – dispute – between you, using us all like pawns to get at each other?" she challenged.

For the first time since she'd first met him, he appeared startled. She felt a ping of satisfaction at managing even that much. His eyes widened, then he gave a full-throated laugh.

"No, no, well, not exactly…" His expression shifted to something more somber, pensive. "Regina and I have a… long history… you might say. We're – well, sometimes we agree and sometimes we don't. For the moment…" whatever she'd seen in his expression disappeared behind the familiar calmness "…I thought it was well time for the town to have a sheriff who isn't completely under her thumb."

"I'm not under anyone's thumb," Emma told him fiercely. "Not hers and certainly not yours, even if I do 'owe you a favor.'"

"I already know that; I seem to recall pointing out to you in the hospital that I rather liked the fact that you're not afraid of me," he reminded her. "Unlike Regina, I don't need people around me who obey my every whim. That would be extremely boring."

And there was yet another extremely twisted compliment. Emma swore under her breath then gave up. He was impossible to argue with.

"Thank you again, I think," she said sarcastically.

"You're welcome, I think, again," he replied.

They stared at each other for a long moment.

"I really won't do anything questionable, favor or no favor," she finally told him.

"And as I already said, I wouldn't expect anything else from you," he responded.

She eyed him. He watched her quietly, even peacefully, in return. Damn it, you truly could not win an argument with him. A sudden question snuck in on her, making her pulse speed up – _who was he_? Henry's 'crazy' ideas suddenly didn't seem quite so fantastical in that moment. This man was… extraordinary. _Who the hell was he?_

"If there's nothing else, Sheriff," he interrupted her strange turn of thought, "I have to finish up some work in my shop."

She mentally shook herself. Silly… she was just tired.

"No, nothing else for now," she said.

"Then, goodnight," he told her politely and turned to leave.

She found herself standing there alone in the brightly-lit Sheriff's office for several long minutes after he was gone, thoughts swirling in circles.

When she finally switched off the lights and left, it was with only one conclusion – whoever he was, ordinary – _extraordinary_ - man or fairy-tale character, she was going to find out.


End file.
